


You Take All The Stupid With You

by LosingInterest



Category: Big Bang (Band)
Genre: Angst?, Confessions, Hopeful Ending, Kisses, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-14
Updated: 2018-10-14
Packaged: 2019-08-01 23:48:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16294292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LosingInterest/pseuds/LosingInterest
Summary: Jiyong is stupid but Seungri can't give what he deserves.***To be honest, Jiyong has no idea how they made it to Seungri’s bed, all clothed and under the blanket. His first sentence for the day is said against Seungri’s mop of hair.“I want to deserve you.”“You can’t,” Seungri rises like the moon, slowly then all at once, in alert. “This is my house.”





	You Take All The Stupid With You

“You never stop talking about him.”

Seungri grins widely, raising his glass for a mock salute. “Cheers.”

She shakes her head and laughs. Her lips are tainted with red lipstick, parting for a whisper of _unbelievable_.

“He’s stupid,” Seungri continues, taking a pause and a sip of his red wine. “Sometimes.”

She raises her right eyebrow. “Don’t let him hear you talking about him that way.”

Seungri shrugs nonchalantly, “Well, he is, you know that.”

She tosses the rest of her drink in her mouth. “Not these days. It was a long time ago, _you_ know that.”

Seungri doesn’t voice out his thought.

She doesn’t have time to start them another conversation before Jiyong makes his way to sit between them, dumping his skinny ass on the couch, feet land on the table, being disrespectful to their last bottle of wine on it.

“See? He’s not that good,” Seungri finishes his drink, making Jiyong’s hand that’s trying to snatch his last sip to stop mid–air.

“Bullshit,” Jiyong rolls his eyes, resting his head on his old friend’s shoulder. “Don’t listen to him.”

She chuckles. “They’re right, then.”

“What?” Seungri and Jiyong ask simultaneously.

“The Tom and Jerry thing,” she gestures at them with her finger. “That’s still a ‘going on’ thing.”

“That’s not,” Jiyong leans to kiss her cheek and Seungri snorts loudly. “That was a long time ago.”

“Right,” Seungri chimes in. “One of us has matured enough to quit.”

“Not you, definitely,” Jiyong pats Seungri’s head. “Not you.”

“Who’s drunk now?” Seungri rises to the challenge. “Not me, _definitely._ ”

“I’m not,” Jiyong protests but fall from the couch when his friend decides that it’s enough scene for her to bear. “Really!”

She clucks her tongue. “Bye, boys,” her heels echoed through the stupid music blast from Jiyong’s speaker.

“Careful,” Jiyong shouts after her, lifting his butt from the ground and falling onto Seungri’s lap like a bomb. “Only us again, then.”

“You’re heavy,” Seungri grunts and makes no effort to push.

“I know,” Jiyong pours them another shot.

 

 

“What did I say?”

Seungri looks up from his phone, pausing mid typing a message to his new business partner. “What?”

“What did I say?” Jiyong repeats with a groan, miserably half sober dragging himself to his kitchen.

Seungri ignores him with a scoff.

“When I was drunk,” Jiyong says after chugging the water. “Did I say something stupid?”

“No,” Seungri sends the text and waits for a reply. “Not more than the usual.”

“There’s no the usual,” Jiyong grumbles, his socked feet clad against the carpet until he’s sitting on his granite coffee table in front of Seungri. “Right?”

“The usual is that you’re always stupid.”

Jiyong reaches for Seungri’s phone and steals it. Seungri growls in response, staring helplessly when Jiyong tosses it carelessly on the couch. “Don’t fool yourself.”

“I wasn’t,” Seungri‘s tone gives nothing away. “More on your side, if you need my opinion.”

Jiyong slaps his cheek playfully, not enough to put some pain. “On what?”

“You.”

“Me?”

“Always,” Seungri stands then leaves.

Jiyong only hums in acknowledgement.

 

 

“Open the goddamn door.”

“What door?”

“Quick, I’m freezing.”

“It’s summer, _duh_ ,” Seungri scowls unhappily, shuffling with his bare feet to his front door.

“I’m skinny,” Jiyong argues and disconnects the call.

“I’m wet,” Seungri fixes him with a glare, his towel clings for dear life around his hips. “Don’t make yourself home.”

“Honey, I’m home!” Jiyong shouts because he can, securing the door lock once again. “Go get dressed and order a take out.”

“I’m not your maid,” Seungri shouts back from his bedroom. “Don’t get comfortable,” he hisses at his own useless attempt. “Shouldn’t you be the _hyung_ one?”

Jiyong doesn’t answer him and is sitting on his piano chair, playing tune for the deaf.

“It’s my house,” Seungri tosses a water bottle at him.

“She’s pretty,” Jiyong comments on his newest furniture addition. “Show off.”

“My money, so shut up.”

“What do you play?”

“Shut up.”

“Beethoven?”

“ _Jiyong_.”

Jiyong’s lips quirk up to a smirk. “Yes.”

“I’m going to kick you out.”

“Ouch,” Jiyong plays a melody that’s soothingly beautiful. “Play nice.”

“I am,” Seungri retreats back to his bedroom to make a call for their lunch.

 

 

“You look sad.”

Seungri huffs with annoyance. “I ordered from your favorite restaurant. Was it not enough to keep you mute?”

“Attitude, my dear.”

“Fuck off,” Seungri pushes himself to stand and grabs a canned beer from his refrigerator. “Go away.”

“You look sad,” Jiyong insists, receiving his own share of the drink. “What is it?”

“I’m not.”

“Seungri.”

Seungri gulps his poison down, swallowing until his throat dry. “People don’t always feel the way they seemed to be.”

“That’s me,” Jiyong corrects him with a grin that falters a second later. “Not you.”

“You think you’re an expert.”

Jiyong ponders over his reply and Seungri’s stomach begins to churn with guilt but thankfully he says something back before Seungri could do something terrible for them both. “Sometimes.”

“Not always,” Seungri wants to fold into himself. “Not now.”

“That’s why I asked.”

“You don’t have to know everything, Jiyong.”

“Not everything,” Jiyong clarifies, his voice drops low like pouring rain. “Just you.”

Seungri waits for a disaster that never comes. “Nothing,” he concludes, tossing his empty can to the bin and scores a perfect ten. “It’s nothing.”

“You have no idea how you look like.”

“You have no idea of how I feel.”

“I have the idea of you.”

“Maybe not,” Seungri rasps too fast.

Jiyong sighs and fishes a pack of cigarette from his pocket. “Don’t tell yourself that I don’t care.”

“Why would I do that?” Seungri assures him.

 

 

“I probably should go home.”

“You should’ve gone home two hours ago.”

Jiyong chuckles and pokes Seungri’s side playfully. They’re sprawling limbs on Seungri’s couch with SpongeBob SquarePants on TV. “Naw.”

“You’re unbearable, Jiyong.”

“Yeah, Soldier.”

“Damn,” Seungri curses but he’s smiling, resting his head on Jiyong’s stomach. His eyes close as he picks up the familiar thumping from Jiyong’s chest.

“Talk to me,” Jiyong taps his cheek after twenty minutes of silence except the noisy cartoon song from the television. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Seungri swats his hand away. “No.”

“Talk to me,” Jiyong tries again with a poke on his side. “Talk to me, Seungri.”

“About what?” Seungri’s eyes are still closed to the world. He savors the moment of blackness behind his eyelids with gratitude.

“You,” Jiyong sighs. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” Seungri shushes him with a glance, finally. “Leave it, okay?”

“Seungri.”

“Leave me be.”

Jiyong’s heart forgets to pound but his mouth complies.

 

 

The peace doesn’t last long.

“You think I’m stupid.”

“For God’s sake,” Seungri mumbles against Jiyong’s stomach, his mouth accidentally catches the softness of Jiyong’s shirt. “Jiyong.”

“God is not here,” Jiyong tangles his fingers on Seungri’s hair, tugging it until Seungri looks up at him, head on his thighs, lips parted open in surprise. A gasp escapes Seungri’s lips and it sends shiver through Jiyong’s spine. “Talk.”

“What?” Seungri narrows his eyes dangerously, a signal. “What is it?”

“You look sad,” Jiyong gives another tug to his hair and Seungri hisses. He makes attempt to untangle Jiyong’s fingers but Jiyong’s not letting go. “You think I’m stupid.”

“You are,” Seungri scowls. “You always are.”

“Why?”

“Why not?”

“Seungri,” Jiyong stares at him worriedly. “Hey.”

“Don’t hey me,” Seungri says but he’s relaxing in Jiyong’s grip. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?” Jiyong releases him quietly and Seungri rolls until he can bury his face on Jiyong’s stomach again. “What did I do?”

“Being stupid,” the reply comes muffled but loud. “You.”

“Yeah?”

Seungri counts until twelve heartbeats. “You love a happy ending.”

“Oh?”

“You cry when the protagonist is sad.”

“Yeah,” Jiyong traces Seungri’s jaw with his finger and the younger male shivers. “Yeah, I do.”

“That’s stupid.”

Jiyong swallows the pain. “You don’t cry.”

“I’m not stupid.”

“No, you’re not, Seungri.”

“See,” Seungri whimpers like a coward but it’s actually them both. “We’re different.”

“Oh, Seungri,” Jiyong is running out of words and it seems that he’s running out of breath too. Seungri is warm against his skin, thick and solid memento of his life.

“You love a happy ending,” Seungri falls into a whisper. “No love is a happy ending.”

“No,” Jiyong carefully moves them until Seungri is sitting on his lap, straddling his thighs. He says to the thick air once he cradles Seungri’s face on his palms. “No love is a happy ending.”

Seungri hums, his eyes are closed. He looks like he’s aged but Jiyong had seen him all day, everyday, it’s ridiculous to even think that he’s getting older. That they’ve changed, so far they can find the way back home. Seungri’s eyelashes flutters and he’s bracing the weight on his shoulders. Jiyong wants to take it from him but he’s not sure how many times he can break his own heart.

“You’re stupid,” Seungri says earnestly. “And I want to give it to you.”

“Oh,” Jiyong is running out of response, that’s for sure.

“I want to give all the happy ending to you,” Seungri clutches onto Jiyong’s arm, leaving tiny crescents of pressures from his fingernails. “I want you to have it.”

“I want to have it,” Jiyong’s chest is burning, his mouth is full of its ashes. “I want to.”

“You’re stupid,” Seungri scoffs, half–pained, half–relieved. “You don’t care.”

“I don’t,” Jiyong chuckles despite the bitterness. “Not really.”

“You’re careless,” Seungri hums thoughtfully. “You love carelessly. You give until there’s nothing, but there’s always something and even then, you keep on giving it away.”

Jiyong breathes in the sweet air of forgiveness, it runs through him like cold water. “Sometimes.”

“All the time,” Seungri reprimands him. “Believe me.”

“Okay,” Jiyong chokes on his reply. “Yeah, I do.”

“I want you to have it,” Seungri’s shoulders slumped forward and they’re chest to chest, sharing a cradled broken heart. “I want you to be happy.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m not sad,” Seungri gives in with a sigh. “It’s because you are stupid.”

“I am,” Jiyong admits. “I am.”

“You want her to look at you,” Seungri holds him. “You want them to look at you. I want them to look at you. Believe me, I do. I tried, I tried my best but you kept on getting hurt. You’re hurting and I don’t know what to do. I knew there’s nothing I could do. That’s enough. That’s not what you deserved, but you’re stupid, Jiyong, you’re always stupid.”

Jiyong’s throat is crumbling so he doesn’t speak.

“I want them to see you the way I see you,” Seungri rubs his back and Jiyong is tumbling into his own mess. “I want them to love you so much you’re bursting with happiness.”

“Don’t,” Jiyong warns him. “Seungri.”

“I want them to love you.”

“Please.”

“That’s the thing with you, Jiyong,” Seungri strokes his hair. “You want to be loved. You love. You wish so hard and you’re sad when nobody’s looking. You’re sad. It’s not okay, I’m not okay with it.”

Jiyong grits his teeth.

“You’re hurt and I don’t know how to give it to you, all I want you to have.”

“Seungri.”

“We’re broken.”

Jiyong pushes him back slightly until he can look into Seungri’s eyes. His heart is leaping out of his pores to the last piece of it, scattering somewhere but he gives zero fucks about it. Seungri’s tear slips out of his eye and Jiyong catches it with his thumb like mercy. “We are,” he manages after a while.

“I don’t know how to fix it,” Seungri confesses, he sounds small and scared. Jiyong’s heart beats another round. “I don’t know how to make it up to you.”

“For all that you’ve done,” Jiyong loves and it’s hard, imperfect at its best kind of one. “ _I_ don’t know how to make it up to you.”

“I want to give too,” Seungri says then the rest of his sentence is lost in Jiyong’s mouth. When he’s speaking again, his lips are swollen red, thoroughly claimed. “I want you to be happy.”

“This,” Jiyong kisses him again. And again, for good measure. “ _God_.”

“God is not here,” Seungri reminds him.

“You,” Jiyong loves stupidly, clumsily. “You –God, Seungri,” he cries. “How long you’ve been –”

Seungri kisses him softly. “I want you to be happy.”

 

 

To be honest, Jiyong has no idea how they made it to Seungri’s bed, all clothed and under the blanket. His first sentence for the day is said against Seungri’s mop of hair.

“I want to deserve you.”

“You can’t,” Seungri rises like the moon, slowly then all at once, in alert. “This is my house.”

“Let me,” Jiyong pulls him back to his embrace. “You know I don’t care.”

“But I do,” Seungri breaks free from his grasp, squinting his eyes at the sunlight pouring through the blinds. “I do, Jiyong.”

“Then be it.”

“That’s exactly why I don’t talk to you.”

Jiyong’s heart soars. “I love you, I want to.”

“You’re stupid,” Seungri refuses but he’s trembling, shivering when Jiyong manages to gather him in his arms once again. “I want to give you what you deserve. Life, freedom, all the things that makes you fucking happy, everything that you wish for.”

“I know,” Jiyong breaks into a laugh, light as helium. “I know, Seungri.”

“We can't –”

“We _can_ ,” Jiyong cuts him in with a kiss that will definitely leave bruises. “I don’t care.”

“Jiyong.”

“You look at me.”

“I always look up to you, stupid.”

“I deserve that, Seungri.”

Seungri clings onto his last bite of sanity. “Maybe you don’t.”

“Seunghyun,” Jiyong watches with batted breath when Seungri’s pupils dilated. “I love you.”

“Maybe you _don’t_ ,” Seungri tries again but he’s losing a battle he’s not even fighting anymore. “I don’t know how to –”

“Seunghyun,” Jiyong swallows the rest of his protest. “I don’t care.”

“Stupid,” Seungri lets him. “You’re stupid.”


End file.
